Chapter 066: Glory Stained with Blood

Unbeknownst to Lin Yu, the sun had already sunk to the horizon, its crimson afterglow casting a unique charm upon the place where sea and sky met. The clouds reflected back shades of white, gray, black, and red. Not far off, just a few hundred meters from the shore, the verdant slopes of the coastal hills exuded a refreshing chill that could lift anyone’s spirits with just a glance.

In this desperate struggle, Lin Yu’s blood surged with growing intensity, his mind becoming ever clearer. He could distinctly sense that few among this gang of thugs dared face him head-on. To them, Lin Yu—spattered in blood—appeared as a god of slaughter, peerless and fierce. After all, they were here to bolster numbers for someone else, not to truly fight to the death.

But when Lin Yu paused, back against the sea, encircled by his foes, the situation instantly became perilous—his life hung by a thread. He was no superhuman; his strength had limits. This was a silent film without an audience, displaying a cruel sort of beauty, with scarlet blood as its vivid theme.

What sustained Lin Yu through such dire circumstances, allowing him to resist exhaustion and remain unbroken, was his unwavering confidence and stubborn will. Once Lin Yu set his mind to something, no one could turn him back.

“You’re not up to the task!” he roared hoarsely after wounding one of the thugs, his shout instantly drowning out the crashing of the waves. Yet, as the saying goes, two fists are no match for many hands; in a careless moment, Lin Yu suffered two or three slashes—not life-threatening, but painful nonetheless.

“What to do?” He fought on, racking his brain for a way out. The one advantage he had was that his opponents were overly concerned with their own safety, keeping a cautious distance.

At this moment, Lin Yu was like a hungry, wild wolf, while his adversaries resembled a pack of guard dogs—fierce in appearance but lacking wildness and the resolve to risk their lives. Precisely because these men were so wary, Lin Yu managed to hold his ground amid the crisis; otherwise, he would not have lasted ten seconds.

In his most desperate moment, he instinctively called upon the search system in his mind, hoping for some inspiration. Sometimes, an observer sees more clearly than those involved.

A moment later, a single word appeared among the links in his mind: Gun! The meaning was clear—if he wanted to survive, he needed the deterrence of a firearm. Without it, there would be nowhere to run in this vast world.

“But here, on this autumn evening by the sea, with barely a tourist in sight, and the nearest police station a half-hour drive away—where am I supposed to find a gun?”

It was almost laughable. Call Hu Rongqiang again? These men would never give him the chance!

Lin Yu now understood the helpless isolation of the Hegemon of Western Chu at Wujiang, surrounded by enemies on all sides. No matter how fierce or strong-willed, his stamina was not limitless; he could not hold out much longer. Anyone who has ever fought knows how quickly it drains one’s strength.

He had to find a solution, and quickly—one that depended on himself.

With a dull thud, Lin Yu was slashed on the shoulder again while pondering his escape, blood pouring down to soak his body. His grip on the knife nearly failed.

“Brothers, cut him to pieces!”

The shout came from Zhang Yang, standing on the edge of the crowd, elegantly smoking a Zhonghua cigarette as if he were watching a movie, the picture of aristocratic composure—a stark contrast to Lin Yu’s battered state.

At Zhang Yang’s command, Lin Yu’s desperation turned into ferocity. Ignoring the pain from two more cuts, he charged at Zhang Yang like a caged tiger unleashed, seemingly immune to pain and utterly determined to take someone down with him.

“Heh, you think you can reach me that easily?” Zhang Yang sneered, unworried with seven or eight men shielding him, continuing to smoke with practiced elegance. His temperament, a mix of phlegmatic calm and a touch of the neurotic, delighted in playing cat and mouse. To him, Lin Yu was merely a rat, destined to be hacked to death.

“Zhang Yang, even if I die today, I’ll take you with me!” Lin Yu’s crazed shout was followed by increasingly savage attacks. Driven to a blood-red frenzy, he miraculously drew closer and closer to Zhang Yang.

“Protect Brother Yang! Don’t let him get close! Cut him down!” bellowed a thug in a black vest with a scar across his face.

At this, the herd mentality took over; most of the thugs clustered before Zhang Yang, eager to display their loyalty and, not incidentally, to stay safer. They knew Lin Yu, cornered and desperate, was bent on revenge against the instigator.

At this critical moment, Lin Yu flashed a devilish grin, suddenly changing direction and charging toward the sparsest part of the encirclement. The two thugs stationed there faltered before his fierce momentum, unwilling to confront him head-on. Seizing the chance, he broke free, gritting his teeth against the pain as he sprinted away.

This feint was inspired by a sudden thought: at the foot of the coastal hill, just a few hundred meters away, stood the Baishan Sanatorium, guarded by two officers armed with submachine guns. If he could hold out and reach them, he might yet escape disaster.

Better to survive by any means than to die pointlessly. Seeing this thread of hope, Lin Yu clung to it—there would be time enough for vengeance. He didn’t need to make a suicidal attack like a Taliban fighter.

“After him! Don’t let him get away!” Only when Lin Yu had run five or six meters did his pursuers react.

But given this chance at survival, Lin Yu mustered every ounce of strength, running as if possessed by the spirit of Usain Bolt. The seconds slipped by, his blood dripping with each step, but he had finally glimpsed a way out.

The beach was less than a kilometer from the Baishan Cadres’ Sanatorium. Two or three minutes later, Lin Yu, still running, caught sight of the two officers standing guard at the main gate.

As Lin Yu saw them, so too did the guards spot him—and the twenty fierce pursuers behind.

“Help me! I know Elder Sun Jin! I know Qi Yue, and Granny Wang too!” Lin Yu shouted desperately as he ran, now only twenty meters from the gate.

“Hurry, we have to stop those thugs! I remember this young man—he came with Director Sun’s lovely granddaughter not long ago, and we spoke!” recalled guard Zhang Qiang, whose memory was excellent.

He remembered Lin Yu mainly because Qi Yue’s youthful charm left a vivid impression.

“You know Director Sun?” the other guard, Wang Zhongwei, called out in surprise, then shouted toward Lin Yu, “Quick, get inside!”